Murphy's Door
by PenguinofProse
Summary: Start of S5. Murphy wants to show Emori that he's not the monster she broke up with.


**a/n Hello and welcome to my first ever Memori-centric fic. This is set at the beginning of S5, when Murphy seems to have fallen apart a little at breaking up with Emori.**

Murphy is disappointed every time the door opens, every time one of Spacekru shows up with another bowl of the green goop that is keeping him alive. Because every single time that door opens, the person on the other side is not Emori.

He knows that this is not news. He knows that she is more than done with him, that she didn't break up with him after almost six years together by _accident_. But all the same, he can't help but wish she might miss him badly enough to torture both of them by showing up with his rations, one day. That's how desperately he misses her. And it's pathetic, of course, that he feels that way, and it's not at all a survivor's move to be that in love with someone who thinks he is worse than garbage. But he craves the woman who laughs at his jokes and looks at him like he isn't worthless. As if he isn't a monster, but a hero.

Or rather, he craves the woman who _used to_ do those things.

He knows where he went wrong. He knew, even as he was doing it, that he was driving her away, that belittling her and making her the butt of his jokes was no recipe for happiness. She has never belittled him. She has only ever sought to make him feel greater than the sack of shit he really is. But even as he knew, even as he ruined the only good thing in his life, he was, somehow, completely unable to act any differently. His ability to self-destruct is, it seems, his greatest talent. In fact, he notes sourly, it might just be his _only_ talent.

The door opens, and as ever, his heart jumps a little in his chest. Just in case it is her, just this once. But it's Bellamy, of course, because the universe hates him almost as much as his ex-girlfriend does.

He punches his old acquaintance in the gut, because that's what passes for human interaction in his life, these days. He knows that he must be the laughing stock of his former friends, stewing pathetically in his own self-loathing like this, lashing out at anyone who comes near him, but somehow he cannot quite stop himself.

Bellamy stops him, of course. The infuriating man always knew how to get the better of him. And then he says some utter rubbish about how he should come back to the group but he's not interested. He will never be interested in coming back to the fold, not unless it is Emori who invites him.

She always was the only person in this life who could make him a better man.

But clearly Bellamy has not got that message, he notes, as he holds him in a headlock and starts spouting philosophical crap at him. Something about how he reckons he likes being the hero, but up here there are no heroes.

Bellamy's wrong, he thinks sourly. There are plenty of heroes up here. Every other person on this ship is more heroic than he is.

John Murphy, on the other hand, is just a monster trapped in a tin can, up here.

…...

He has a go at being less of a monster. Not in a big way, of course. Grand heroic gestures have never been his best thing. He conveniently forgets that time he stole medicine for an irradiated child, forgets too every time he has ever fought for Emori's safety. Forgets the time he pumped a woman's heart with his bare hands for the good of the human race.

He's been conveniently forgetting a lot, in space.

He remembers, though, all to abruptly, that Emori still does think he's a monster. It's pretty obvious, really, when she looks him up and down so dismissively with a pointed comment about how _we can't stand the sight of each other_.

He tries to have a go at being quietly helpful when they move out of the Ark, collecting her bag for her, doing the odd jobs Raven asks him to. Raven is, of course, the only person on this heap of junk who still looks at him like he has any redeeming features whatsoever. He supposes that she's always been a bit more of an optimist about the chances of _fixing things_ than most engineers.

He just wishes that Emori thought this good thing he broke was still fixable, too.

That thought makes him sour, as they get in the rocket and head towards their unknown new neighbours. It makes him bitter, and rude. Even ruder than normal.

"Copy that." Emori's voice has a hint of a wobble, he thinks, as if she is nervous at this first real flight.

"Pilots don't say copy that." He tells her, giving his poorly-hidden monster its head.

"This one does."

"We're so screwed." He seems to remember that he used to tease her like this, years ago, but that, then, she used to find it funny. She used to find it _endearing_, used to be fond of it.

She doesn't look at all fond now, as she sets her brows and gets on with flying. But then, suddenly, before he can work out what's happened, there is a jolt, and a shudder, and it feels like the ship is falling apart around them and something has obviously gone wrong but he has no way of knowing what.

He knows one thing, and one thing only. He knows that he does not want them to die here, now, like this, with her still hating him.

No, he knows a couple more things than that. He knows that he wants to reach out and wrap his fingers around hers, wants to be holding onto her if this is their end.

He's just about to do it, just about to take that risk and with it her hand, when the ship crash lands.

He can scarcely believe it when they all hop out and are ready to get going, and Raven suggests Emori should stay back and check the rocket. She's obviously in no state to be left alone right now, after that scare, on a ship that belongs to strangers. She'll cope with it, of course, because coping with challenges is what the woman he loves does best, but she shouldn't have to.

At the look in her eyes it is suddenly very easy to volunteer to stay back and help.

"How?" She asks, scorn replacing the anxiety in her gaze. "Making stupid little jokes?"

He feels his anger rise at that. Even when he tries to do the right thing, she somehow takes it the wrong way. "Don't take it out on me because you screwed up on your big debut, OK?"

Of course, Bellamy interrupts to smooth things over. Murphy wonders if it gets tiring, playing at being Clarke as well as himself. It doesn't suit him, he thinks bitterly.

None of this suits any of them.

…...

That bad mood stays with him through their tentative exploration of the ship, through even their discovery of the hydrazine. He knows he ought to be excited that they have a way back down to the ground. The ground is where he works best, after all, where he is a survivor rather than only selfish. But he's just so damn sick and tired of being so unable to get anything right.

Right on cue, Monty decides to criticise his hydrazine-wheeling skills. As if that is even a thing.

"Go slow, Murphy. This stuff's combustible."

"No kidding." He's not actually an idiot. He may not be able to keep up with the brains of Emori and Raven, but he knows that rocket fuel tends to be combustible. "Just tell me we're going the right way. This place gives me the creeps."

"We're almost back to the docking bay." Echo says mildly, even as Monty continues to criticise.

"You're afraid of an empty ship. You should be more worried about what's waiting for us on the ground."

"I can worry about more than one thing at a time." He can worry about Emori, for example, even while he's worrying about himself. Or at least, the man he used to be on the ground could do that. "It's called multitasking."

"Old Murphy's back. I for one missed your stupid little jokes."

"Thank you, Echo." He tries not to sound too _touched_.

"Please don't encourage him."

"He just misses his algae farm."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's pretty clear you'd rather be staying on the Ring." He expects lashing out at Monty to make him feel better, but somehow it doesn't quite work.

"You mean where we were safe. Well fed, plenty of water, friends, people we love? Why would anyone want to stay there?"

"Come on man, we were stuck in a metal tube for 2201 days." He can't admit the real reason he hated it, after all.

"That's right. And while the rest of us were working every one of those days to make life better and learn things, you sat on your ass and did nothing, pushing Emori away because she dared to find a skill to be more useful than you."

He contemplates throwing the man against the wall, but tries for cool sarcasm instead. "Tell me how you really feel, Monty."

"I thought I just did."

"You're just mad because I'm excited to go back down to the ground instead of hiding from the real world." He taunts, mask carefully in place to hide the cracks that are in danger of showing in his emotional armour.

"You don't like being called useless, do you Murphy?" For the first time in all the years he has known him, it appears that Monty is genuinely contemplating unnecessary physical violence.

He doesn't need to bother. The words he has come out with over the last couple of minutes have cut plenty deep enough.

…...

He is still a little dazed, even after they have taken note of the cryopods and made it back to the docking bay. He is still trying to decide what to make of being told the truth so plainly by Monty, so hot on the heels of Bellamy's attempts at philosophy. So it is that he allows himself to smile a little too openly when he rounds the corner to the sight of Emori obviously whispering about him, then even less subtly engineering an abrupt change of subject.

"You were talking about me, weren't you?" He asks, trying not to let too much warmth into his voice.

"Don't flatter yourself, John." She snaps back at him, briskly, but the grin spreading over her face is strangely at odds with her words.

Maybe he's not the only one who's regretting things, here. Maybe he's not the only one who wishes they could put things right. Maybe if he can just find a way to show her how much he misses her, there might be hope for them yet.

While he is enjoying this utterly unrealistic daydream, it seems the conversation has moved on around him. Bellamy has appeared, but Raven is not by his side, and his crewmates are, unsurprisingly, confused and distressed.

"It's technical, but someone has to run things from here." Bellamy explains, looking deeply unhappy about the situation. And he can well understand why, really, Raven is part of their crew and -

"So let it be John." Emori's harsh voice breaks into his thoughts, and he staggers backwards with the almost physical shock of it.

So much for grinning. So much for missing him. So much for that daydream.

"Like I said, it's technical." Evidently Bellamy would be only too happy to leave him behind, too.

"I'll do it." Monty pipes up, Harper protesting behind him.

"Enough." Bellamy sounds tired, he thinks, and they're not even on the ground yet. "It has to be Raven. Once we have a truce she'll come down with the prisoners. If we fail, she'll take the ship's escape pod. Either way she'll be fine."

All at once, he knows what he has to do.

"If I'm flying solo, she'll be the only one." Emori frets, worry lining her face. And he wants to do something about that, really he does, but this doesn't seem to be the moment for it.

No, this is his moment to be a hero.

"I'm staying too." He announces, to the evident shock of every other person in the docking bay. "Look, Raven might need backup."

There is a heartbeat of stunned silence.

"What? With Emori flying this is the survivor's move." He dares to seek out her eyes at that, dares to see if, perhaps, after this he might not be such a monster to her anymore. Dares to see if he might at least have lived up to her incredibly low expectations.

It is the tiniest of smiles, less than a half smile. It is more like a quarter of a grin, and it scarcely disguises the anxiety showing on her face, but it is the best thing he has seen in months.

This is it, then. This is what he has to do.

"See you on the other side." He tells them, and goes to set out towards Raven.

He knows he should just walk away. That's how it's supposed to go, right? He should make his parting comment, complete his grand heroic gesture, and walk away without turning back. But he just needs to see her, one more time. Needs to torment himself by trying to read her reaction to that grand heroic gesture in her face.

So he turns. And the closing doors are framing her face, but it doesn't look like her face, somehow. Because that expression of heartbreak and horror is one that just doesn't belong there. And it hits him, all of a sudden, with substantially more impact than their recent crash landing, that he cannot let it end like this. If they never see each other again, if that ship does go up in flames, he doesn't want her still to entirely hate him. He remembers how much that prospect hurt him, this very day, when their flight here went so wrong. And so he finds himself thinking that he needs to say something, just a few words, just to boost her confidence for the challenge that lies before her. And if it softens the fury she feels towards him, that can only be a good thing. He's not sure what to say, where to start. The pressure is on, and time is short, and the doors are closing and -

"You got this." He tells her, completely inadequately, hitting the button to pause the doors. "You can do it."

And suddenly, before he can quite work out what is going on, the doors are opening and she is closing the distance between them and throwing herself into his arms. This comes as something of a surprise to him, that she should be in his embrace quite so soon after making it clear she detested him and thought he deserved to stay behind on a ship full of murderers, but he's hardly complaining. He holds her tight, and breathes in the much-missed scent of her, and wonders if he's only imagining it or if she really is crying into his shoulder.

He whispers an assortment of broadly reassuring comments into her hair and wonders whether he ought to remind her that time is short.

"That settles it." Harper strides towards them. He rather forgot anyone else was here, actually.

"What?" He asks, holding Emori even tighter.

"Monty and I will stay. I'm sure he can figure out whatever it is Raven thinks she needs to stay and do. And I'll be his backup and keep him company."

"Sounds like a plan." Monty steps up beside her.

"No." He can't let this happen. He's supposed to stay, damn it. He's supposed to make the grand heroic gesture to show Emori he's not completely worthless. With that thought, he withdraws his arms and steps away from her, trying very hard to ignore the way she tries to cling to his waist as he goes. "No, I'm staying. Emori's right, I'm the least useful, so it should be me."

"You might not be much use in space, but you're pretty handy on the ground." Harper shrugs.

"And didn't you just point out that I want to stay in space?" Monty adds.

"And I think Emori would be much happier with Raven by her side." Harper concludes, and it seems that the thing is settled as the two of them stride off down the corridor without looking back.

"But I -" He goes to follow, to try to change their mind, but Emori's hand around his wrist holds him back.

"John." Her voice holds more tenderness than he has heard from her in, he thinks, _years_, but it also holds rather too many tears for him to be entirely happy about that development.

"It's supposed to be me, damn it. I'm supposed to be the one who stays."

"You heard them. They want to stay." That's Bellamy, still ostensibly practising using his head.

"Now get in the damn ship." Echo instructs him, face inscrutable as ever.

"You don't get it." He hisses, strangely hurt that they won't let him do this. "I need to stay. It's the only way I can stop being the bad guy." He allows himself to meet Emori's gaze, even though he knows it will only make this harder. "It's the only way I can make you stop looking at me like I'm some kind of monster."

"No, John. _You_ don't get it." She sounds angry with him, she thinks, but somehow her hand is no longer wrapped around his wrist but is intertwining with his fingers, and that's a bit of a mixed message he can't quite get the hang of. "I didn't want you to stay. I just – I wanted you to be the kind of man who would _offer_ to stay. Who would actually do something for his crew, for once."

He stares at her, jaw gaping open, desperately wondering what to say. He wants so badly to tell her that he can do that, can be that kind of man, can do anything if it's what it takes to win her back. But he knows, too, that he isn't that kind of man at all, and that pretending he is will be distinctly challenging.

So he kisses her instead, slowly, almost tentatively, giving her time to pull away if she wants to. But she doesn't, not at all. No, she flings her arms around his neck and pulls him close, and he feels her lips respond almost desperately beneath his, inviting him in, urging him closer. And he gets the feeling that, maybe, if she's by his side, if her mouth is against his – maybe he can at least have a go at being who she wants him to be. Maybe when they get back to the ground it might be time to remember those times he has _already_ been that man. Maybe he could be that man again.

To say that duration of the kiss is the best ten seconds of his life would not be an exaggeration. In his defence, he doesn't feel that way because he's pathetic. He's just had a pretty shit life.

She breaks away from him all too soon, hand still clinging to his, at the sound of Raven walking up behind them.

"I hear there's been a change of plan." She says, eyes narrowed thoughtfully at the pair of them as she passes and heads for the ship. "Well, come on then. Don't stand there all day. Get in the rocket. And Murphy?"

"Yeah?"

"Close that damn door."

**a/n Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, there are sprinkles of Memori in ****_Bellarke in a Bunker_**** and ****_Radio:Active_****, which you might like to read...**


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